Requiem For A Dream
by FreeFall Sunsoar
Summary: When a contingent of Canadian soldiers is unexpectedly attacked, the survivors look for revenege. Elrond, Gandalf and Connor meet. *Chapter 04 uploaded* [Contains Slash, het, violence, etc. AU Movieverse]
1. Flash Fried

  
Requiem for a Dream  
Written by Freefall Sunsoar 

E-mail : freefall_sunsoar@hotmail.com  
Archive : Anywhere! Just let me know, okay?  
Series : Lord of the Rings (movieverse)  
Rating : R  
Pairings : Various  
Warnings : Slash, sexual situations, violence, strong language

Disclaimers : I do not own LOTR in any way, nor do I claim to. It is the property of JRR Tolkien. Last time I checked, that was not my name. Please don't sue me, you wouldn't get any money anyways. I'm dirt poor.

Notes : This is my very first LOTR long fic. Yay me. I've had this idea in my head for a while, so I wanted to take my time while writing it to make it good.. At all costs I wanted to try and make this a non-Mary Sue fic, and I hope I have succeeded. Not that I really have too much against Mary Sues, but I really wanted to stay away from that in this fic. 

On to something else now =3 My OC's are of a modern military background, so there's going to be a lot of army stuff. Now, I'm not an expert about things like this, so I did a little research on it. Hopefully I haven't made too many errors. Let me know if I have, okay?

And speaking of military, I personally have no opinion about Al 'Quieda or terrorists or Americans and their anti-terror war. I am simply using the situation as a set up for the story. I hope no one takes offense. 

Enough rambling. Enjoy!

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CHAPTER 01 - Flash Fried  
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"Rudolph to Fireball, what's your position, over."

"Fireball to Rudolph, I'm 120 meters from the opening and closing. Clarice is right behind. Over."

There was an audible sigh over the headsets.

"Something the matter Clarice? Over."

"Not at all Yukon," there was a pause, "These are the stupidest code names we've ever used. Over."

There was the sound of snickering ringing in her ears, which only made her sigh again. Why she had agreed to let Jack pick the code names for this mission was beyond her. This was a serious task, and it didn't help that her comrade could be heard giggling over the headsets every time he was referred to as 'Fireball'. Then again, it didn't surprise her much; he was an odd boy.

"Never mind the code names, " Yukon's voice snapped, his authority evident, "Focus on the mission. Fireball, Clarice, I want you to approach the rock cropping at the mouth of the caves with extreme caution. Rudolph and I will be right behind you."

"Roger that Lieutenant," Clarice replied.

"Roger," Fireball answered as well, "We'll be waiting for you. Over."

For the last three days the small unit of soldiers had been tracking a party of Al' Queida terrorists through the mountainous rock hills north of Kandahar. They had once been a much larger unit, consisting of fifty-five members of the Canadian Armed Forces, until that fateful night when the terrorists had gotten the drop on them. Only four of them had survived the rainstorm of bullets and grenade shrapnel, and now they were out for blood. They had lost so many friends and comrades that their sorrow made them blind to anything but vengeance. 

Only hours after the attack the small group had said goodbye to their fallen friends and packed as much as they could carry with them. Guns, knives, grenades, flash charges, countless rounds of ammunition; they had enough firepower between them to blow up a small portion of Afghanistan. At one point Clarice had wished that they made hand held nuclear bombs.

It was a suicide mission, and they all knew it. Four of them would stand no hope against the group they were following; the lieutenant had estimated there were at least twenty-five of them. Poor odds at best. But she understood this, and simply wanted to take out as many of them as possible before joining her comrades in death

She would rather die honourably in a battle than ambushed in a tent. The others did not deserve the end they had met, and she would see it set right. However, despite the bold front she put up for the men, fear was always chasing through her bones, but she had to try and push it back. Every now and then her hand would break out into an uncontrollable quiver, and she had to stop and force herself to calm down. It would all be over soon.

They had tracked the terrorists to cluster of caves set deep in the mountainous country side, and were now preparing for their strike. The element of surprise was definitely on their side, and it gave them all some small comfort. They had made no attempt to conceal their tracks, so the lieutenant had come to the conclusion that the terrorists believed them all to be dead. No one would be expecting them.

Nightfall was approaching, and the sun was beginning its slow journey westwards. It would be dark in less than an hour, and they would have the cover of darkness to aid them as well. Clarice and Fireball had reached their target, and crouched behind a large mass of rock as they waited for the rest of their small team. About three meters on front of them the opening of a great cave looked like the screaming mouth of some black beast. There was no sign of the Al 'Quieda terrorists.

The two of them used the opportunity to rest for a few minutes. The female soldier flopped backwards into a small sand dune, casting off her helmet, relieved to be off of her feet for the time being. She did not dare to pull down the tinted goggles over her eyes, nor the turtle-neck like face mask she wore; they did to excellent a job of keeping the sand from her eyes, nose and mouth. They had been moving through dry, acrid heat across broiling sand for three days, with little food and little sleep. Her back ached from carrying such a heavy pack, and there were huge blisters battling each other for real estate on her poor feet.

Why in God's name had she ever signed up to go to Afghanistan?

Oh, right. That stupid little voice in her head that told her maybe she could make some sort of difference. This would be the last time she ever listened to her conscience; that was, of course, if she lived long enough to have another opportunity to do so.

For the last three days she had been 'Clarice'. Many different code names had been given to her during her short years in the military, but her real name was Saidie Trevat. Nearly twenty-four now, she had joined the army after a few unsuccessful years of community college. It had been a hard road for her to earn the respect of her male counterparts, so hard that she had almost given up a few times. But in the end she had stuck with it, and continued to struggle against the popular opinion that women made lousy soldiers.

But that was the farthest thing from her mind. As many of her hazers lay as dead as her close friends, and she would have to face their killers soon. Saidie sighed loudly as she scrubbed a dusty gloved hand through her short-cropped brown hair. If she made it out of this alive, the first thing she wanted to do was to find a bathtub and soak for ten years.

"Are you alright Saidie?"

She looked up to see her companion watching her. He must have turned the volume on his earpiece down so the Lieutenant wouldn't hear him using her real name; their commander always insisted on code names during missions, whether they were briefly resting or camped for the night.

"Yeah, I think so. Just a little nervous I guess."

She assumed he was smiling before he readjusted the volume. "Me too. Don't worry though, it'll be over soon. We'll take care of those bastards and then we'll get to go home."

Sometimes she worried about his confident optimism. One day it was going to get him into trouble, or worse. 

Ever since the first day they had met, she had always rather liked Jack Mitchell. They had become very good friends in a short period of time, and he had become a sort of second brother to her. He was four years younger than she , fresh out of high school and eager to 'fight the bad guys'. This had been his first major assignment, and Saidie was afraid it might be his last as well. 

She would be the first to admit he was a good-looking kid; blond, unruly hair that screamed to be touched, eyes the colour of storm clouds, one of the most beautiful and genuine smiles she had ever seen on a man - he could have been in a boy band. Though it was hard to tell at the moment, as his features were all hidden behind his facial coverings. Some of the guys had teased him about being short - he stood at only 5'10, only two inches taller than she - but he took it all in stride. Jack never let anything get to him, and it was one of the things she admired about him.

Now one could assume that, as the few other women in the unit had, Saidie had a bit of a crush on him. She found him attractive, there was no question, and the age difference wouldn't have bothered her, but there was one nagging little detail that kept them simply as friends.

He was gay.

And it was fine by her if that was the way he chose to live his life. She had been flattered that Jack had confided in her about such a huge secret. The only thing many of the men in the military hated more than the increasing number of women were homosexuals. She had heard all the stories about the way gay men had been beaten and raped and even killed when they revealed themselves to their fellow soldiers. So when he had begged her to keep it a secret she had agreed never to tell a soul unless he said otherwise.

She was quite sure that no one else knew. Perhaps a few suspected, and some even mildly insinuated, but there had never been any flat out accusations. So they had kept it between themselves. A few people thought that they were having some sort of affair since they spent so much time together, and since Jack would always silently sling an arm over her and grin when asked, the rumor had spread. They protected each other, in combat and from within their ranks, and it was something she had come to treasure during her time in the army.

If they were both killed tonight, then she would die knowing that she had at least one friend with her.

For fifteen minutes they sat waiting, listening to themselves breathe and watching the sun slink beyond the horizon. During this time they heard nothing from within the caves, not even a single footstep. There was no light from torches or a fire, so they had to assume that they were camped deep within the stone. Jack had his AK-47 clutched close to him, finger on the trigger, ready to shoot anything that moved. The others were taking far longer than they thought. Jack was getting anxious.

"Yukon to Fireball."

Finally.

"Fireball here, over."

"Rudolph and I are approaching your position. ETA two minutes. Over."

"Copy that Yukon. We're ready for you. Over."

Saidie and Jack got to their feet and shuffled a few feet closer to the entrance of the cave. There were so many boulders jutting out from the earth that they had excellent ground cover. It would be maneuvering around in the dark caves that they had to worry about. 

Eventually the soft padding of boot-clad feet could be heard behind them, and Rudolph and Yukon finally came into view. They maneuvered to the opposite side of the cave entrance, and Saidie could see that her teammates had already donned their night vision gear.

'Rudolph' and 'Yukon' were actually Private Shigure Miyashi and Lieutenant Connor Harolds, the other surviving members of the Canadian unit.

Saidie knew very little about Shigure. He was a quiet man who mostly kept to himself, about twenty-five or twenty-six perhaps; she was bad with ages. His family had moved to Canada from Japan, and they settled in Toronto. Like her, Shigure had joined the army after attending college. That was pretty much all anybody knew of him. 

The second man, Lieutenant Harolds, she knew far more about. He had come into command fairly young, and was still in excellent fighting condition. Just shy of his middle years, his copper coloured hair had the faintest tinges of gray at the temples, and his eyes crinkled around the corners whenever he had a facial expression, which was rare. Through and through he was a military man; disciplined, strict, and set in his ways. She had yet to decide whether she hated him for it or admired him for sticking to his beliefs.

They had had more than one confrontation about a women's place in the military. It had been obvious from day one that he did not think a woman was capable of the same things as a man, and he was constantly on the few female soldiers in his command whenever they made even the slightest mistake or showed signs of fatigue. 

Saidie quickly replaced her helmet, and pulled the night vision attachments down over her goggles; Jack did the same. It would be dark very dark in the caves, and difficult to find their way. A misplaced step could mean an even more untimely end.

Everything was bathed in a radioactive neon green, courtesy of the night vision, and she held her gun, an M-16 carbine, ready to fire. It was hard to remember exactly how many guns she had on her at the time, but as long as she had the M-16 and Old Faithful, her 9 mm Beretta pistol, she knew she would be fine. 

Jack went in front of her, falling in behind Shigure and Lieutenant Harolds, and she watched as her comrades cautiously entered the cave. Guarding their rear, Saidie took one last visual sweep of the outlying rocks before she went in after them. The proverbial coast was clear, and the element of surprise was still with them. How long it would last though, she had no idea.

They picked their way through the darkness slowly, careful to stay hidden behind the stalagmites jutting from the cave floor. The terrorists had left them a clear trail of footprints and debris, so it was easy to track their path. They had taken many twists and turns, following the cavern and it's natural downward slope; the place was a maze. If they didn't have such an obvious trail, they could have easily gotten lost.

Nearly half an hour passed for the small group before they finally saw the faint glimmer of torchlight.

"There they are," Jack whispered over his head set, "Those bastards are going to pay for what they did."

"Easy Fireball," the Lieutenants voice answered him immediately, "Keep your emotions under control; a cool head might just see you out of this alive."

It was unlikely that any of them would live this out, but it was nice to hear a note of hope in the commander's voice.

"There is always hope soldiers," he continued, as if reading Saidie's thoughts, "But whatever the outcome, we do this for those who were taken from us."

Somewhere, far in the back of her mind, a voice was questioning her as to whether answering the slaughter with more slaughter was the right thing to do, but she pushed it back. Perhaps they were just aiding the cycle of violence, but she had committed herself to this course of action, and she would see it through to the end. There would be blood for blood. It might not have been right, but it was what they all needed to do.

They were in a long, narrow rock corridor, which was gradually widening into what looked like a larger chamber. The light was becoming brighter, and she would have estimated two or three large fires had been lit in there. But, as they approached, they heard no voices.

"Rudolph, Fireball, advance to the entrance, but do not go in. Wait for my signal. Clarice, with me."

"Roger sir."

Jack and Shigure moved like stealthy shadows towards the opening to the chamber, hovering just a few feet back from it, and disappeared behind some rocks. Advancing towards the Lieutenant, Saidie readied her weapon, squinting ahead into the chamber to discern shapes.

It was a peculiar thing, they way he stood there almost hesitantly when she dared to look up at Harolds. He was deep in contemplation, as if reconsidering what he was about to do. Never had she ever seen him doubt himself before, and it was slightly unnerving. So when he covered his headset and looked at her with that bizarre, unreadable air, she blanched.

"Tell me Private, do you regret what you are about to do?"

She big her lip, and thought about it for a minute. "It is a choice I made Lieutenant, and regardless of whether I think it is the right course of action, I have pledged to follow you to the end. If this is our end Sir, then I do not regret it. We will have our revenge."

He sighed, somewhat sadly, and nodded slowly. "Yes, we will have it."

Nothing more was said, and she knew it was time. They would go to their deaths, but they would do it for those they had served with. If nothing else, she thought it would be an honourable way to go. Taking in a few breaths to steady her faltering nerves, she moved silently behind Harolds towards the chamber entrance.

/Please don't hate us for what we are about to do God, / she prayed internally, /If I come to your Gates tonight, I come without regret. /

One more deep breath, steadying her finger against the trigger.

"On my mark gentlemen ... and lady," he added in as an afterthought, "on my mark."

She barely perceived Jack and Shigure as they ghosted through the shadows, pressed against the wall of the chamber entrance. They were mere inches from the entrance, guns held ready.

"We are ready," Shigure said calmly.

"NOW." 

The two young men moved as tightly coiled springs that had suddenly been released, charging into the chamber like some long forgotten warriors. Jack had let out some ridiculous war cry before it was drown out by the sound of automatic machine guns. Harolds signaled her forward, and together they burst into the gunfire mere seconds after the other two.

Only, when they arrived, they were met with no enemy fire. She searched through her scope for a target, but found none, only an eerie silence after Jack and Shigure stopped firing into nothing.

It was bright in the cavern from the roaring fires, and the night vision was not necessary anymore; they were making her partially blind. Hastily she removed it, and gasped in surprise when she took a good look around the chamber.

Scattered on the ground were the bodies of the terrorists, all of them dead. The other three looked equally shock, Jack so much so that his mouth hung slack jawed in surprise. It seemed someone had taken care of their quarry for them.

"What is this?" Shigure breathed aloud, half to himself, "How is this possible?"

Lieutenant Harolds was the first of them to regain his senses. He walked to the closest body and knelt beside it. Not a single bullet hole or discernable wound. There was no blood on the man, or any of the others for that matter. The commander was studying the terrorist's face when Saidie dared to come in for a closer look herself.

The man ... no, she had to correct herself, the boy - he could not have been any older than Jack - stared back at them with glazed, lifeless eyes, his face frozen in a perfect picture of shock. His hand was clutched to his chest, fingers still curled tightly in the fabric of his clothes, as if he were having a heart attack or a stroke. His fear was evident, and Saidie couldn't help but feel slightly nervous.

"They're all dead," Jack announced tonelessly, walking carefully through the bodies, his gun always pointed to the ground, "All of them."

"H-how? How did this happen. We've been on them for the last three days, we would have noticed if anyone else was following as well."

"No visible wounds on any of them," Shigure added as he briefly inspected a few of the bodies, "There is no blood on the ground, no signs of struggle. Whatever happened to them, it happened quickly and without warning. They had no time to counter attack."

Saidie stood hastily. "Do you think whoever did this is still here?"

"Perhaps," Harolds replied warily, "Keep up your guard, don't relax for a minute. Just because they are dead it doesn't mean we are safe."

Silence stretched in the great chamber, overcoming the four that still lived. It was a massive place, the roof nearly thirty feet above them with huge stalactites like jagged teeth. It stretched back farther than the fire's glow, and it was impossible to tell how far back it went. For long moments the soldiers simply looked back and forth between each other and the bodies.

"What will we do Sir?" Jack asked as he kicked an arm out of his path, "It seems that someone has done our avenging for us, so we've got nothing to do here. Do we head back to -"

"Pick up all the arms and supplies you can carry with you," Harolds interrupted, a bitter taint to his voice, "We'll make for the foothills just outside the cave and camp there for the night."

"Yes Sir," the three privates intoned immediately. They knew that tone; he was quite unhappy, and it would be foolish of them to disagree. Besides, none of them were eager to stick around.

Wordlessly they went about the grim task of searching through the bodies for anything useful. Saidie snatched up a few long knives, subtly curved and etched with Arabic along the blades - much better than Canadian standard issue - about six or seven frag grenades, and two U.S. standard M-1 carbine rifles which were in excellent shape; likely pilfered from American soldiers.

"Awesome," she heard Jack mumbling, and looked over to see him examining a 9 MM sten sub-machine gun with a silencer; the brief smile on his face reminded her of a child at Christmas time.

They remained for about another half hour until the Lieutenant told them they would be leaving. His expression remained sour, and Saidie suspected that he was disappointed they had not gotten there in time to die. There were more here than they had estimated, at least thirty, and there would have been no way that they would have lived. Perhaps, she thought dourly, that he hadn't planned to live at all, and this was supposed to be some heroic last stand to compensate for his losing his unit.

It must be hard for him, she thought, to have survived when almost his entire command had been wiped out.

She understood what he was feeling though. Their survival seemed empty now, knowing that they hadn't been the ones to kill the terrorists who had slaughtered their friends. Somehow she felt as though justice had been denied.

"Shigure," Lieutenant Harolds snapped when he realized the Japanese was not with them, "We are leaving now."

The man in question was standing farther back into the cavern with a blazing torch.

"Wait a minute Sir," he called back, "There is something here. Bring more torches."

Saidie and Jack glanced at each other, and then at the Lieutenant. Grudgingly he nodded at them, and the two younger soldiers grabbed some of the spare wood the terrorists had brought in to make torches. Harolds followed them, but did not bring a torch of his own.

"This had better be good private. I do not want to waste ... time ..."

If finding all of these dead bodies had not been a shock to the Canadians, what lay further back in the cavern was nothing short of breath taking. They had not noticed it at first, as the firelight had only managed to highlight its outskirts. Now that they brought some additional light, they could make it out clearly.

Sitting in the centre of the chamber was a massive stone tower. It reached to nearly the full height of the cave, and was almost as wide. It was as if the cave itself had built up around the structure.

"Holy shit," Jack exclaimed in a monotone, unable to tear his eyes away.

"I thought I could see a structure of some sorts back here when we first came in, but I was so overcome with shock that I didn't think to investigate it until now," Shigure said, also in amazement, "And now I am glad I did."

"What is this thing? I have never seen or heard of anything like it before."

"There are many treasure undiscovered on this Earth," he replied, a hint of wonder in his usually stoic voice, "This is simply one of them. The Al Quieda must have been hiding its existence."

"It's beautiful," she breathed in near disbelief, "But how did it end up this cave?"

"Perhaps it was buried in some great disaster," the Japanese youth mused, "Look over there, there are petrified trees on the slopes."

Cautiously the group approached the ruins, torches in one hand and a gun in the other. Saidie noted that Shigure had picked up a large black box, and it was now strapped to his back above his pack. She would ask him about it later.

There was a path up the tower, which wound around its side and out of sight of the Canadians. They presumed it went all the way to the top, which was also out of sight, but there really was only one way to find out. The younger soldiers all seemed eager enough to check it out, but Harolds hesitated at the approach.

"It could be dangerous," he surmised dryly, "For all we know whatever finished off the terrorists could be waiting for us at the top. I do not think we should waste our time here."

Jack frowned. Clearly he was anxious to explore the ruin, and Saidie couldn't blame him. She wanted to see it for herself. The boy took a step towards the commander, and she suddenly had this feeling that he was going to say something he would regret.

"Sir, with all due respect, I think we owe it to ourselves to at least take a look. How often do you get the chance to see something so mysterious?"

"And with all due respect Private," he stressed the word meaningfully, "I am in charge of this mission, and I say it is over. The Terrorists are dead, and now there is nothing left for us to do here. We can report this back in the morning."

"And how are we going to do that? All our radio equipment was destroyed. We don't have any ways of contacting anyone."

"I found this transmitter among the dead," he held up a battered looking radio, "I believe I can have it operational in the morning. We will leave now, an make for the -"

"But Sir," he snapped back, "I really think -"

He was cut off when Shigure put a hand on his shoulder, and mumbled something to the effect of "let it go". Jack tensed at the contact and looked briefly back at the other before shaking him off and glaring back angrily at his superior. Shigure shook his head in disappointment and backed off to stand next to Saidie.

"You are not here to think Private, this mission is over. You will follow my orders, is that understood?"

Saidie couldn't help but be reminded of one of those nature specials on the Discovery channel, where the stupid tiny lions challenged the great big dominant male. Though somehow she doubted this would end in Jack having a chunk bitten out of him, she didn't like where it was going.

"I came here of my own free will Lieutenant, you did not give an order for us to follow you here."

The other two Privates watched with silent grimaces; this would not end well. Jack's voice was getting angrier, and the look on the superior officer's face was enough to sour milk.

She wasn't sure, but Saidie suddenly felt the slightest of breezes brush against her face. It was warm, but it gave her a chill along her spine. Where had it come from? Surely, she had thought, they were too far back in the cave for the night time winds to reach them. Perhaps it was nothing.

"I am your commanding officer Private Mitchell, and I am still in command."

"I thought we were coming here on common ground," the youth snapped back, "To take revenge for what happened to everyone else. This was supposed to be for all of us, not just you."

There it was again, stronger this time so she was certain of it. The wind ruffled her cammo shirt at the hem, sending sickly little sensations crawling across her belly. Shigure had picked up on it too, she noted, as he was glancing around them curiously, holding out his palm to gauge a direction.

The argument continued. 

"You are out of line soldier."

"And you are full of shit Lieutenant."

Now it degenerated into indiscernible yelling, and Saidie decided her earlier Discovery Channel metaphor was more than apt. But she was more concerned about where that mysterious wind was coming from. It seemed to be getting stronger with every passing minute, and her concern grew with it.

"Behind us," Shigure muttered to her quietly, not wanting the Lieutenant's wrath to be redirected towards them, "It's coming from those ruins."

Along with its increasing force, the temperature was rising as well, up to the point where it felt like they were out in the desert sun at midday. It felt most unnatural, as if there were something foul behind it. The two of them dropped their torches to the cave floor and slipped on their night vision.

Unnoticed by the other two, who were still deep in the depths of their fighting, they crept a little closer to the old crumbling tower, peering up to top. That was where it was coming from.

"What do you think it is Shigure?" she asked her companion cautiously, a finger resting heavily on the trigger of her gun, "You don't think ..."

"It is what was responsible for killing these men?" he finished her thought grimly, "I sincerely hope it's not. But it is the logical place for whomever the killer is to run to. We didn't see signs of anyone else coming or leaving. Maybe the Lieutenant is right in his hesitance to go up there."

When they strained their eyes to get a glimpse at the top of the tower, they could just make out ... something. Neither of them were quite sure what it was, but Saidie could have sworn it looked like a little twister. There was definitely movement. Shigure reached back into his pack and retrieved his binoculars.

"What do you see?"

There was no response at first, but all of the colour drained out of the Asian's face. Shaking, he handed the binochs over to her and suggested they leave immediately.

Nothing could have prepared her for what was on top of that tower. It was some sort of twister, a mass of dark clouds swirling with alarming speed. Like a whirlpool it seemed to be expanding, and it was now encompassing the entire top of the structure, slowly making it's way over the side and down the slope.

"We have to leave," Shigure said loudly, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards their comrades.

Harolds and Jack, surprised by the man's sudden outburst, momentarily forgot their argument and looked to the other two in confusion. It was at this point that they were noticing just how warm it had gotten in the cave, and the intense breeze that made them both feel sick.

"What is going on? Miyashi, what are you doi -"

"Sir, we have to get out of here. There is something on top of that tower. Something most unnatural."

Saidie pitched the binoculars to Jack, who seemed terribly lost and confused at to what was happening. He took one brief look at the top of the tower, cursed loudly, and then chucked them to the Lieutenant.

"Mother of God," the older man whispered when he caught a glimpse of the rapidly approaching vortex, "We make for the entrance now. All of you, run as fast -"

But it was too late. There was a brilliant flash of light, so blinding that they thought their eyes might be burned out of their heads. It engulfed the entire cave mercilessly, and the Canadians had no chance.

They were dead.

TBC in Chapter 02 - Middle Earth

  
Notes : Err, don't worry. It would be a pretty short story if they were actually dead. Well, I hope you've enjoyed the first chapter of what will be many to follow. I want to aim to have new chapters done every week - two weeks. I have to be realistic, ya? 

Comments and constructive critisism can be sent to freefall_sunsoar@hotmail.com. I like getting responses. Please let me know what you think!


	2. Middle Earth

  
Requiem for a Dream  
Written by Freefall Sunsoar 

E-mail : freefall_sunsoar@hotmail.com  
Archive : Anywhere! Just let me know, okay?

Series : Lord of the Rings (movieverse)  
Rating : R  
Pairings : Various  
Warnings : Slash, sexual situations, violence, strong language

Disclaimers : I do not own LOTR in any way, nor do I claim to. It is the property of JRR Tolkien. Last time I checked, that was not my name. Please don't sue me, you wouldn't get any money anyways. I'm dirt poor.

Notes : See Chapter 01 for some introductory ramblings.

  
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CHAPTER 02 - MIDDLE EARTH  
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

  
The sensation of falling is quite unlike any other.

It gives your stomach the feeling of churned butter, wrenching up and down, back and forth until you think it's going to collapse on itself. That was the feeling that Saidie was getting as she plummeted into the never-ending abyss of darkness. She tried to scream, but it was impossible for sound to leave her mouth. So she had to settle for silent cries of terror as she fell further into the unknown.

It was hard to determine how long she had been falling, but just as she thought her sanity could no longer handle the pressure, it happened. A great eye appeared beneath her, almost serpentine and wreathed in fire. Once again a silent scream passed through her lips before there was another great flash of light.

And she suddenly found herself outside, in the chilled night air and in a place she did not recognize, falling rapidly towards a stone tower. It would have been hard to tell in the dark, but there was no doubt in her mind; it was the top of the tower from the cave. As seen from above of course.

"FUUUUUUUCK!"

She landed hard on her stomach, and she heard the unmistakable sound of something snap. Shit, she fell on her machine gun, and the trigger had broken clean off. It would be useless to her now.

"Damn it," she mumbled as she tried to push herself to her feet, "What happened ...."

The stone beneath her gloved hands was cool and worn from years of erosion, but it did not seem have the same ancient look as it did when she had seen it in the cave. When she managed to get to her feet, she gasped when she saw her comrades there as well, sprawled out on the ground motionlessly.

"Jack, Shigure, Lieutenant, " she called to them, "Are you ... all ... right."

Now that she took a good look around her she saw they were not alone anymore. Three tiny little men were crouched on the ground, shaking and cowering in fear, looking at her as if she had two heads. What were they so afraid of? The answer came in the form of a high pitched wail from behind her.

Saidie spun around to find the source of the sound, and her eyes widened behind her tinted goggles. It was now that she thought maybe she had hit her head in the fall as well.

Five of them, all in torn black cloaks that whipped in the night air and blended to the darkness like shadows. She could make out armor underneath, layered and likely sharp as razors. When one peered into the darkness beneath the hoods of their cloaks, blackness stared back at you.

One of them had a sword extended, pointed at the ground for some reason, and there was screaming as if someone had been stabbed. But she saw no one. The three tiny men were sprawled on the ground, one of them calling out desperately for a 'Mr. Frodo.'

"Run," another one of them was looking at her now, a pleading expression on his face, "You have to run, or the Black Riders will get you all. Look out!"

One of them had decided that she was worth interest now, and was coming towards her with its sword drawn. There was a horrible screeching coming from he creature, and it made her shiver.

"Stay back," Saidie commanded, tossing aside her broken firearm and bringing out Old Faithful. The barrel was pointed directly at its head, but it did not seem to care. It raised it's own weapon swiftly and prepared to strike.

She did not hesitate to pull the trigger.

Four rounds went into the cloaked monstrosity before it crumpled to the ground. The tiny people screamed at the sound of the gunshot, as if they had never heard such a thing before.

More shots were fired, and she was glad to see the other three on their feet now, opening fire against two more. For a moment she feared they might have been killed in the fall. Harolds was getting to his feet, and called to her to take out the one with his sword on the ground.

She turned, about to take out the demon, when something caught out of the corner of her eyes. A torch was hurtling through the air, straight towards her. Instinct took over and she dived to the ground just in time for the burning stick to sail over her head and embed itself in the back of the cloaked figure's neck. The strangest thing happed.

It stumbled back, shrieking like the other, wrenching its sword as if it were stuck in something. Seconds later she heard a cry of terrible pain, and saw a fourth tiny man appear out of thin air, clutching his chest where the sword used to be. One of the other tiny men crawled over to him frantically, ignoring the Black Riders writhing around him.

She watched them, transfixed.

"Sam," the injured one said weakly, seeming on the verge of tears and in a great deal of pain.

"Oh, Mr. Frodo."

Distracted, she didn't notice that one of the creatures was coming at her; the one with the torch in it's neck. The sword was high over her head, coming down in a swift arc, and there was no chance for a reaction.

Then suddenly she heard a great shout of effort from somewhere in the darkness, and a flash of steel from a second sword dove deep into the demon's back. It squealed like a skewered pig, dropped its blade and fled into the shadows, still flaming.

Saidie found herself face to face with the stern countenance of a Man who looked like he hadn't bathed since the day he was born. His dark hair was stringy and slick with dirt and sweat, his face covered in uneven patches of rough stubble. Cold blue eyes stared back at her, judging and watchful.

"Do not let your guard down," he said tersely, "These are formidable enemies you face."

"STRIDER!" the concerned, chunky looking man called for him, "Come quick!"

The one known as Strider gave her another look over before running to his fallen friend. The other four cloaked figures were slinking off as well, fleeing the hail of bullets that chased after them.

Compelled, Saidie could not help herself and walked towards the group that had gathered around the fallen boy. From this distance, he looked no older than Jack, and suddenly she was reminded of the boy lying dead in the cave. Would he share the same Fate?

Strider held up the blade that Frodo - she assumed that was his name - had been stabbed with. It crumbled into ash before their eyes, and Strider said something to his companions, but she could not hear.

"Is he alright?"

Strider was suddenly on his feet, his black blood-soaked sword pointed mere inches from her face.

"Who are you?" he demanded fiercely, "What sorcery did you conjure up to land upon this place so strangely? I have never seen Men in such clothes or with such loud weaponry."

Men? Or dear, he thought she was a male. Well, she was still wearing her helmet, face mask and those tinted goggles, and her army fatigues certainly hid her figure. Still, she would have thought her voice would have given it all away.

Where were the other three?

/Tell me they did not go after those things,/ she grimaced mentally.

"Answer me stranger!"

"Lower you weapon," Lieutenant Harold's stern voice was followed by the cocking of a gun hammer.

Just in time. She managed a small glance backwards to see Jack, Shigure and the Lieutenant a foot behind her, guns aimed at Strider. If he made a move to attack her he'd be full of lead in seconds.

"No, wait!" the tiny man who had spoken to her earlier, who had warned her to run, stepped forward, "They aren't our enemies, I think. They attacked the Riders when they came after us. They helped us Strider. You shouldn't fight."

Now that she actually stopped at looked at the man, she could see that something was very strange. Standing at about waist height of Strider, he had large, hairy feet - and no shoes - and slightly over sized, pointed ears. The four of them were like this. Something was seriously wrong with this picture.

"What are you?" she asked him rather tactlessly, momentarily forgetting the sword in her face, "What is going on here?".

"We will not answer your questions until you answer mine. Who are you people?"

"First Lieutenant Connor Harolds, Canadian special ground forces," the older soldier spoke up confidently and stepped forward, "These troops are under my command. We found ourselves in a cave after tracking a group terrorists, and this structure was somehow inside it. There was a bright flash of light, and suddenly we were falling. Tell me, what is this place? Where are we?"

"Weathertop," Strider answer cautiously, "Once a great watch tower, now fallen into disuse and ruin. It is hard for me to believe that you had found it inside of a cave when it clearly stands in the open."

"There seem to be a lot of things that are hard to believe at the moment, " he replied evenly, "But I am sure there must be a rational explanation for all of this."

Was that a smile on the dark haired man's face?

"I'm sure you will find, Master Harolds, there is little room for ration in these lands as of late. I do not understand why or how you have come here, but I am afraid that it would burden my conscious and my curiosity leave you here to fend for yourselves when the Wraiths are hunting."

The fellow who had been stabbed cried out again, and Strider went to his side again, examining the wound. It would be wise, she thought, if she hung back with the others. Harolds still seemed to be quite wary of these strangers, but she knew he would do what he had to.

"This is beyond my skill to heal," he announced after a few seconds, scooping the boy in his arms, "He needs Elvish medicine."

Now, he couldn't have just said what she thought she heard him say. It was silly. Elves.

He turned to them, his expression completely neutral. "If what the Hobbits tell me is true, then you are indeed friend to us. We must make for Rivendell, if you wish to join us, and the House of Elrond. Perhaps there we can find some answers as to what has happened this night."

It was obvious that Strider did not trust them completely, and it was understandable, but she couldn't help but think he was simply allowing them to follow to satisfy his curiosity.

"Rivendell?" Harolds said questioningly, "I have never heard of such a place. But I suppose we must accept your offer or wait here for death. Very well then, we will aid you along the way. It will be dangerous."

"Your aid will be most welcome, the wraiths will keep hunting us; You and your men fight bravely against things you do not understand Master Harolds. Come then, we must hurry. Merry, Pippin, Sam, on your feet now. We must get Frodo to Rivendell."

"You heard the man troops, we move out. I want night vision on and weapons ready. Private Miyashi, Private Trevat, you have the flank, but to not stray to far. I want to know if those things so much as breathe on us. Private Mitchell with me."

They all saluted him before breaking into their groups. "Yes Sir."

The tiny men - Hobbits she thought she heard Strider refer to them as - watched them with brief amazement, but quickly refocused to their fallen friend. The heavy set one, Sam she recalled, was right beside Strider, asking frantic questions. He must have really cared for Frodo.

/Please don't make us have to bury this little one before I even get a chance to say hello/ Saidie prayed as she and Shigure were the last to follow the party down the tower path.

  
*********************************************

They had stopped in the middle of some forest after running for nearly four hours. There had been no visible signs of the wraiths yet, though they could all hear them screeching some miles behind and feel their presence tingling in their spines.

So many questions needed to be answered, but everyone was too busy focusing on Frodo and keeping him alive. It was crucial that they reach this Rivendell, but hope was failing. It was a long ways away, according to Strider, and Frodo was fading fast.

They still had no idea why those Wraiths had been attacking the Hobbits or what they had been after. The Ranger was not saying anything about it, telling them that he would explain it all to them when they got Frodo out of danger. Once Saidie had thought she heard Merry and Pippin whispering something about a ring, but she wasn't sure. For the moment they were simply co-operation with the circumstances.

Strider had called a stop, and Harolds had ordered his troops to make a perimeter sweep to ensure that there weren't any of these wraiths hiding about in the bushes. They quickly discovered that the comm systems had been shorted out, and all they got was an ear full of piercing static when they tried to use them; thankfully though, their night vision was still intact. The three of them always stayed within visual range of each other for their own protection. When they were certain that they were safe for the moment, the three of them returned to their makeshift camp. All of them were exhausted but trying not to show it.

Strider and Sam were arguing loudly about the wraiths.

"Perimeter is clear Sir," Shigure reported, removing the night vision and ignoring the argument, "These Wraiths seem to be keeping their distance for now."

"Probably trying to dig out all the slugs," Jack commented causally, though there was some underlying tone to his voice, "It's a shame we wasted so much ammo on them. Something tells me we aren't going to find any lying around this place."

"At ease then men," Harolds nodded to them, "Get a few minutes of rest while you can. I don't think we'll be here for very long."

Whatever argument that had passed between the commander and Jack seemed to have vanished, or was at least put on hold, as if the two of them had silently agreed to disagree for moment. Saidie was glad for that, because she knew they would all have to stay focused if they wanted to get to this Rivendell alive. Of course, once they arrived, she was certain Jack was going to be severely reprimanded.

Glancing at the huge stone troll statues, she sat on a log away from the Hobbits and the impending questions she could see in their eyes.

She wished she had any idea where they were. This was indeed a strange place, almost alien. It was like something out of a fantasy novel, with the swords and trolls and tiny people with hairy feet. How on earth had they come to such a place? Would they be able to find a way back home? Too many questions.

Maybe they really had died in that cave, and this was all some sort of death bed fantasy.

"Hey kid," Jack sat down next to her, and put an arm around her shoulder, "How you holding up?"

Well, at least her fantasy was nice enough to provide a concerned, happy friend.

"Good enough I guess," she answered him "My legs are killing me, but at least my back is numb so I can't feel it anymore."

Jack laughed, and though his mask was up, she was sure he was smiling. "Same here. Something tells me though that we've got a lot more running to do. Gotta get that one to Rivendell and all," he looked like he suddenly had a thought, "Hey, isn't that where Archie lives? Y'know from the comics."

"That's Riverdale," she said as if explaining it to a four year old. "Riverdale. Somehow I doubt it's the same place."

"Oh," Jack sounded almost disappointed. "Do you think he's going to make it?"

He jerked his head towards Frodo, who looked about three days dead already. None of them understood exactly what was happening to the little Hobbit; 'falling into shadow' wasn't a medical term the Canadians were familiar with.

"Hard to say," Saidie answered sadly, "I hope he pulls through, but Rivendell is so far away. Even if we ran all the way there without stopping, it would take about five or six days, or so this 'Ranger' says."

"Hnn," Jack made a non-committal noise in response.

They both watched the older, slightly unsanitary man as he hovered about Frodo, checking his wound and looking over his own shoulder suspiciously at the shadows.

"Sam, come," the filthy man suddenly said, standing from the Hobbit's side, "I need your help."

Sam, who was sitting on Frodo's other side holding his hand and smoothing back his hair, looked down at the boy with sadness and reluctantly went to Strider. Saidie and Jack watched them with dull curiosity for a few minutes, talking in hushed tones away from their hearing, and then disappeared into the bushes. Strider called back something about looking for herbs to slow the poison.

"Such a terrible thing," she commented sadly as she rose.

Jack observed her as she went to kneel beside the sickly boy. She removed one of her gloves and took one of Frodo's sheet white hands into her own. His skin was disgustingly clammy, and cold as a telephone pole in January.

"I'd like to have a look at it."

Shigure seemed to appear out of nowhere, startling the female soldier, squatting beside her to get a close look at Frodo's wound.

"Jesus Shigure," she scolded him, "Don't sneak up on me like that."

"I wasn't sneaking up on anyone," he stated blandly, "You just weren't paying enough attention."

Saidie grumbled silently while she watched the Japanese youth carefully pull back the collar of Frodo's shirt. What was revealed was perhaps the ugliest wound she had ever seen in her life. In the military they had all seen their fair share of injuries, but this was something quite unlike any other.

"It's completely cloterized," he mused aloud, partially to himself, "But it goes deep. Hmm, I've never seen any kind of poison that can have this kind of effect on the body ... but it spreads quickly. Very quickly. I think Strider may have overestimated the amount of time he's got left."

"You have medical training Shigure?"

Jack had joined them at some point, and he was blinking at the other boy with newfound curiosity.

"Some," he said slowly, not bothering to look at his questioner, "I trained as a field medic when I first enlisted, before I joined the Lieutenant's unit." 

"Why did you stop?"

"That's none of your business," Shigure replied coldly, giving him a sideways glare before he removed his pack, "But I think I can help Frodo a little more than Strider's herbs can."

He removed a small white med kit, something that most soldiers carried with them at all times. Opening the case, Shigure rummaged through its contents briefly before removing some white gauze and a small bottle filled with a clear liquid. During this whole time, Frodo was simply looking back and forth between them, gasping and wheezing in agony.

/I wonder if he realizes we aren't his enemies. We must look strange to him in our facemasks and night vision. /

Removing her other glove, Saidie stroked the side of his face as softly as she could, trying to soothe him as Sam seemed to have been doing earlier. 

"Keep him calm Trevat," the Japanese said as he swabbed the gauze with the contents of the bottle, "This will sting."

"What is it?"

"An antiseptic," he explained as he poised his hand over the wound, "It's used on the field to disinfect wounds and kill infection. I don't think it will help the poison, but it will certainly keep the wound from becoming infected."

And with that he pressed the cotton firmly against Frodo's chest. The Hobbit's already large eyes widened to unnatural proportions as he cried out in shocked pain. She kept a tight grip on his hand, whispering soothing words to him to try and keep him calm. Shigure made four strong swipes across the wound before he relented and Frodo crumpled back into the ground in agonized relief.

The gauze was covered in black, crusty stuff - whether it was blood or something else entirely, Saidie was not sure. The stab wound looked marginally better, no longer covered in whatever was now clinging to the bandages. It was red and angry, but it would not infect. Shigure got some clean gauze and surgical tape, covering the wound from outside invasion.

"That is fucking nasty," Jack said in distaste when he snagged the swab away from an irritated Shigure to get a closer look, "What is this?"

"Blood maybe," Saidie guessed, equally grossed out, "Or some kind of by product from this shadow poison."

"Oi, what are you people doing to Frodo?"

The three soldiers looked up simultaneously to see Sam charging towards them in an indignant Hobbit rage. He had a fistful of plants in one hand, and the other balled into an angry, shaking fist.

"All I could hear was him screaming like he was bein' stabbed again. What is that bottle? What's that cloth on Mr. Frodo's wound?"

Saidie glared at Jack when she heard him trying to fight back some laughter. Perhaps Sam didn't know he was awfully cute when he was trying to be intimidating, but that was no reason to laugh. Especially when his friend probably would not live out the night. She hit him in the arm.

"Ow," he complained, "What was that for."

"Control your laughter Mitchell," she said tersely, "No one else finds anything funny."

"Relax Hobbit," Shigure answered, almost as tactless as Jack with his chuckling, "This is medicine. It will keep Frodo's wound from developing an infection."

Sam shoved Jack out of the way, who fell back weakly in amusement, and resumed his place at his friend's side.

"Where is Strider Sam?" Saidie asked in concern when she did not see the Ranger anywhere, "Is he coming -"

Her sentence was interrupted when a strange white light appeared among the trees where the Man in question had disappeared earlier. The three of them were on their feet instantly, weapons drawn and aimed into the illumination.

"What now," Jack muttered irritably, "More wraiths?"

"On your guard men," Lieutenant Harolds had come to join them when he noticed the light as well, "You little ones, stay behind us."

Saidie noted that the Hobbits seemed to take mild offense to being called 'Little ones', but they agreed none the less. She had noticed that the Lieutenant, while he had accepted this new 'mission', was having a difficult time accepting that the Hobbits were creatures other than humans. In fact, he had not used the word Hobbit once, and he did not believe in the slightest all this talk about Elves.

They all watched the light anxiously, waiting for whatever was about to come out of it. A woman appeared before them on a large white horse, in a flowing dress with a dark over shirt. Her dark brown hair was long, the bangs pulled back behind her head. She was perhaps one of the most beautiful women any of them had ever seen. There was this quality to her that seemed to sooth the wary soldiers.

She dismounted the horse gracefully and said a few hushed words to the beast. Walking towards them, leading her mount, she glanced at the strangers briefly before turning her attentions to Frodo.

"Who is she?" Jack asked to no one in particular, breathless from the sight of her.

"She's an elf," Sam answered as she knelt down to examine Frodo.

At first glance Saidie missed those strange pointed ears that marked her as being something other than human. She had almost dismissed Strider's earlier comments about Elvish medicine as something she must have heard wrong. Surely Elves were just children's stories, faerie tales, as Harolds kept insisting to them. It was hard to believe, but here was the proof. Wherever they were, it was a place where the reality she had known seemed to have no bearing.

"Frodo," she whispered to him, caressing his cheek gently. She went on to speak with the frightened looking Hobbit, but it was in some fluid language that she did not understand. A quick glance towards her comrades told her that they were as equally puzzled.

Strider seemed to appear out of nowhere again, a habit Saidie was finding quite irritating, with a torch and a fistful of weeds identical to the ones Sam had earlier.

"What is this?" he asked Shigure, the closest to him, as he carefully ran an experimental touch over the gauze on Frodo's chest, "Are you responsible?"

"I put some antiseptic on his wounds, it will stave off infection and quicken the healing process," the Japanese explained with a factual tone in his voice, "It is a better treatment for him than anything you will find in the bushes."

The Man glared at the soldier, but when Frodo let out another shriek his attention turned quickly.

"We must get him to my father," the Elf maiden spoke up in English, as Strider lifted the Hobbit and put him up on the horse, "I have been looking for you for two days. There are five wraiths behind you, where the other four are, I do not know."

"Lead them to Rivendell," Strider made as if he were going to get in the saddle behind Frodo, "I will send horses once I reach -"

She countered him in that foreign language, and they argued briefly before she climbed back up on the horse. Somehow this did not sit well with Saidie; giving up Frodo to the care of some stranger. Though, she supposed by the way their eyes lingered on each other and the gentleness in which they touched they were probably something greater to one another than mere strangers.

"Ride hard Arwen," he said firmly, trying to look like he wasn't worried, "Do not look back."

Arwen - that must have been her name - smiled back at him before urging the horse forward.

"Noro lim Asfaloth, Noro lim," was what Saidie heard before horse and rider went charging into the bushes. It made no sense to her.

"What are you doing?" Sam, who had been quiet with awed surprise, was now yelling furiously, "Those wraiths are still out there! How can you just send Frodo -"

"He is in good hands now Master Gamgee," Strider interrupted crossly, "She will get Frodo to Rivendell faster than I."

"What are we going to do now?" Pippin asked curiously, staring off in the direction in which Arwen had disappeared.

"We must keep moving forward. Without Frodo now we can move a lot faster, and we may be able to make Rivendell in four days if we are swift. Hurry now, we cannot linger. The Wraiths, as Sam has pointed out, are still out there. Safety will not find us until we reach Imladris."

"Agreed Strider," the Lieutenant had his night vision back on over his goggles, "It is far too dangerous to stay in one place right now. Miyashi, Mitchell, scout ahead but stay within shouting distance. Trevat, with Strider and the Little ones. I'll cover the rear."

"Yes Sir," once again they hastily saluted him and were off to their respective positions. She would have liked to be up ahead with Jack or Shigure - and she would have really liked for the comm to be working - but she didn't mind sticking with the Hobbits and the surly Man.

"Come then, let us make haste."

And with that they were back into the night, running towards some unknown destination and hoping desperately that Frodo would be there when they arrived. And maybe, just maybe, they would be able to find some answers as to how they had ended up here in the first place.

/Answers would be nice .../ Saidie thought as the party approached a small stream, /Answers and a bath./

  
TBC in Chapter 03 - Revelations

  
Notes : Yay, another chapter done and the adventure is on! Huzzah. How will Strider and the Hobbits react when they find out one of these gun-toting strangers is a woman? I dunno. We'll have to wait and see. Much to come! Hope you've been enjoying the story so far. Thanks to those who have reviewed and sent me e-mails.

Comments and constructive criticism can be sent to freefall_sunsoar@hotmail.com. I like getting responses. Please let me know what you think!


	3. Revelations

Requiem for a Dream  
Written by Freefall Sunsoar 

E-mail : freefall_sunsoar@hotmail.com  
Archive : Anywhere! Just let me know, okay?  
Series : Lord of the Rings (movieverse)  
Rating : R  
Pairings : Various  
Warnings : Slash, sexual situations, violence, strong language

Disclaimers : I do not own LOTR in any way, nor do I claim to. It is the property of JRR Tolkien. Last time I checked, that was not my name. Please don't sue me, you wouldn't get any money anyways. I'm dirt poor.

/Thoughts/

Notes : Nothing new. See Chapter 01 for some introductory ramblings.

  
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
CHAPTER 03 - Revelations  
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

  
"It's simple Merry. When the trigger is pulled - that's this one here - there is this reaction inside the gun. The bullet is propelled out of the barrel so fast that it can't been seen by the human eye."

"What is a bullet?" 

"It's a small metal projectile," Jack made an estimate with the tips of his fingers, "Hurts like a bitch when you get hit with one. Very deadly when it's aimed at the right spot in the body."

"What spot is that?"

"Most spots," he replied thoughtfully, "Guns are pretty efficient."

These Hobbits, as Jack and his comrades had quickly discovered, were quite curious. Always filled with questions for them. Natural, he thought though, for people who probably seemed so strange and alien. Had these Hobbits dropped in on them in the middle of the Afghani desert he would most likely have been brimming with excited questions for them.

He had answered them to the best of his ability, when he was traveling along side them of course, withholding certain information at his own discretion. Harolds kept telling them that they should be cautious of these people, despite the fact that they were helping each other, and not to tell the ever asking Hobbits too much.

Strider never asked them any questions, not even their names. He only spoke on brief occasions to the Lieutenant, and when giving out general orders to the whole party. Sometimes he would catch little reflective glances from the Man, but nothing more.

None of them still had any idea that Saidie was a woman. Jack thought this was extremely amusing, and he was looking forward to the time when she would have to take off her masks and tell them the truth. The Hobbits, he thought, would probably be a little shocked, but wouldn't care in the long run. The Man they traveled with, however, might be a tad more concerned.

He had watched his interaction with the Elf maiden Arwen closely, and it was obvious to him that he did not want her to be the one to take Frodo to Rivendell; it had been clear in his expression. Strider was the type of guy who did not want to put women into danger.

Kind of like another man he knew, only a lot less vocal about it.

The Lieutenant was scouting ahead with Shigure, and he was glad that the commander was not with him. Every time he thought about their fight in the caves it made him a little angrier, so he tried hard not to think about it. So of course he only thought about it more.

They simply did not get along. Perhaps it was a clashing of personalities or outlook, but whatever it was he just did not like the man. He was a model soldier, Jack would give him that, but that was part of the problem. He was so strict and firm in his orders, always following the rules to a T.

His mission to track the terrorists had been some kind of suicide-honour thing, Jack could see that now. It was only superficially about getting revenge for the people they had lost; Connor Harolds had really meant to die with the rest of his unit. All good commanders go down with their crews, don't they?

In the beginning, Jack's grief had not allowed him to see such a motivation behind the Lieutenant's actions. He wanted to go out and kill those people. He wanted to see them all dead. Never in his life had he wanted to end another's so badly. Jack wanted to see some justice. Justice for that which had been taken away from him.

But when their justice had been taken away as well, he began to see that perhaps he and the Lieutenant were not after the same thing. And when he thought about it, he realized his immense stupidity in not questioning what he had been doing earlier.

His hand slipped absently into his pocket, fingers resting on something cold and metallic. Jack sighed. All he wanted was for these feelings of failure to leave him alone.

"Is something wrong?" Pippin asked, startling the boy, "You've been staring off for quite a while."

"Oh, uh nothing," he replied hastily, bringing his hand back out, "My mind just wandered off for a second."

"Ah, say no more. Happens to me all the time," the Hobbit intoned cheerfully, "I'll just be talking to someone, and then I'll start thinking about some lovely cabbages or tomatoes."

Jack had to laugh. He liked Merry and Pippin. They were so enthusiastic and energetic, it was almost infectious. Strider had all the charm of a wet sack, and Sam was so distraught over Frodo that he was in no condition to make any sort of conversation. It was rare that he and Saidie were ever paired together to scout ahead, Shigure was as talkative as the Ranger, and he would have rather gouged his eyes out with a rusted spoon than talk to Harolds.

So he was a little more than glad that he had Merry and Pippin to laugh with. 

"What's your name?" Merry suddenly asked, blinking at him curiously, "We've been walking for days and we don't even know who you people are or what you look like."

Surely, he thought, there would be no harm in telling the Hobbits his name. They knew the Lieutenant's name after all. It was not vital information that was going to get them killed or anything.

"My name is Jack," he was grinning though the Hobbit's couldn't see it, "Jack Mitchell."

Pippin made a strange face. "That's an odd name. Never heard that before."

"What kind of name is Pippin?" the soldier replied childishly.

"It's short for Peregrin."

"It's not really short for it, Pip," Merry interjected thoughtfully, "It's more like a nickname. Merry is short form of Meriadoc. Pippin is not a short form of Peregrin."

"Whatever. All I'm saying is that I have a perfectly good name."

"My name is perfectly good too," Jack said in defense of himself, "Very popular in Canada. "

The two Hobbits blinked. "What's Canada?" the asked in unison.

"Uh ... " 

He had no idea how to respond to this. It was easy enough to talk about his country, but these two would have no idea what he was saying. Where ever they had ended up, clearly it was not a place where his knowledge of the Earth's geography would have any relevance.

"I am curious to hear about your homeland as well, Master Mitchell was it?" Strider addressed him directly for the first time since their meeting, and it caught the boy off guard.

They were all looking at him expectantly now. Even Sam, who had been trotting alongside Strider sullenly, looked interested in what he had to say.

"Just Jack," he responded, flustered, "Master Mitchell makes me sound like a porn star."

"Porn star?" Pippin had that familiar curious look, "What's tha-"

"Never mind," Jack interrupted quickly, dreading such a conversation, "I'll tell you later."

"Very well Master Jack," the boy made a face at the use of the title, but Strider could not see it, "I have never heard of this Canada you and Master Harolds refer to. Does it lie somewhere across the seas? Part of Valinor perhaps? Surely it is not part of Middle Earth."

It was Jack's turn to be curious. "Valinor? Middle Earth? Is that where we are now?"

The expression on Strider's face made the Canadian slightly nervous. "Yes Master Jack, we are in the very heart of Middle Earth. It vexes me though that you do not know of the name of these lands. Where is Canada?"

"It's a large country, in the North," Jack spoke almost absently as he absorbed Strider's information, "The largest country in the world I think. Or maybe that was Russia ... I don't remember. Anyways, it's a great place to live. Some awesome cities, but lot's of countryside too, and it's very cold in the winter. But ... we weren't in Canada when we discovered that old tower."

Strider cocked an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"We were in Afghanistan. It's a smaller country in a totally different part of the world. It's all desert and rock."

Strider was still making that face. "These places you describe are surely alien to me. Never have I ever come into a country so large as the one you speak of. Or one of mountain and sand. They must lie beyond the mists of the seas. You must tell me more about it when we reach Rivendell."

"Uh, you might want to ask the Lieutenant ... err, Master Harolds about that," Jack said warily, "He can tell you more than me. I don't even know if I was supposed to tell you that much."

"There is no harm is giving information to the curious Master Jack," he thought he saw a smile on the Ranger's face, "Unless you do not trust us. We are very close now. "

With that, Strider quickened his pace to walk ahead. He did not ask anymore questions, or even look back at the Canadian or the Hobbits. Jack sighed; he did not like this at all.

The Lieutenant had insisted that they keep scouting ahead and behind, despite the fact that they had absolutely no idea where they were going. So one of them had always stuck with the Hobbits and Strider. Every twenty minutes or so one of the front men would join them briefly to relay what they had seen and to get some simple directions from the Ranger. It was a sensible precaution given their previous run-in with the Wraiths, but no one had seen, heard or sensed anything from them in the last two days.

Jack was certain they had all gone after Frodo and Arwen.

/What kind of a place is this Middle Earth?/ he thought to himself, /Monsters and Hobbits and guys with swords .... it's like we've fallen into a book or something. God I hope this is all some sort of elaborate coma fantasy./

He sighed again as his mind wandered.

/What kind of a name is Middle Earth anyway? Is there an Upper Earth or a Lower Earth? Too weird./

"I think one day I should like to visit Canada," Pippin spoke up suddenly, cutting into Jack's thoughts, "It sounds very nice. As long as you have some taverns though."

Now the Hobbit was speaking his language.

"You like taverns do you?"

Merry nodded enthusiastically, "And Ale."

Definantly speaking his language.

"Well then, let me tell you all about Canadian beer ..."

For fifteen minutes or so Jack went on and on about different kinds of beer - which were his favourite, which were gross, why it was better than American beer - while Merry and Pippin listened with wide-eyed, undivided interest. He was just getting into a story about nearly falling into a campfire when he was drunk, when Strider went bolting up the hill they were climbing, yelling at them to do the same.

"We have arrived," he called back before disappearing.

The Hobbits and Jack exchanged brief glances before quickening their pace. Saidie joined them as well, startling Sam when she appeared out of nowhere from the bushes.

"I hate being on rear guard," she said distastefully, falling into a slow jog next to Jack ; the Hobbits were running in front of them, but with their short legs it was barely a run at all, "So what have you boys been talking about all day?"

"Beer," Jack said with a hidden smile, "Seems Merry and Pip are quite the little drinkers."

"Jack told us about Canada too," Merry added helpfully, "We want to go an visit one day, and try every beer you have to offer."

She laughed, and Jack couldn't help but laugh with her. Somehow he thought that they would have very little to laugh at when they reached Rivendell. 

Strider was waiting for them just before the crest of the hill. The dense trees of the forest were beginning to thin, Jack noticed, and the path was hard-packed from years of travel. This time he was sure there was a smile on the older man's face, and his eyes did not seem as harsh as they had. In fact, he seemed quite relaxed. Perhaps, now that they were approaching Rivendell, he would be more sociable.

Or maybe he would at least answer some of their questions.

"Behold, the Elven city of Rivendell."

He made a grand gesture with his arm, and the small group passed through the last cluster of trees onto the very top of the hill. Harolds and Shigure were standing there, holding onto their weapons limply as they gazed at the city below.

"Jesus Christ," the youngest soldier exclaimed when his eyes fell on the site below him, "It's ... fuck, I don't have any words for this."

"Watch your language Mitchell," the commanding officer scolded half-heartedly, taken by the beauty of the city.

Rivendell was like no city any of them had ever seen before. They were used to sky scrapers and office buildings. Steel and brick and concrete. Modern architecture. To a lesser extent, they were even used to the simple stone and thatch buildings that they had seen in third world countries.

This was unique.

Never had a city blended to well with nature. It was hard to tell where the woods and waterfalls ended and the buildings began. Everything seemed to gleam under the fading sunlight in gold and silver and ivory; sinuous lines and curves defined each structure as it reached beyond the canopies towards the sky. Truly it was a magical place.

"This is where the Elves live?" Merry asked excitedly, "It's so pretty. So much different than the Shire."

"Is Frodo here Mr. Strider? Do ya think he made it?" Sam did not look twice at the beautiful scenery.

The Ranger's smile seemed to falter for a moment. "Let us hope so Sam. Come on then everyone. We can reach the gates by nightfall, though I suspect Master Gamgee will have us there sooner."

Shigure and Harolds were about to go ahead, but Strider called them to a stop.

"We have long since entered protected lands Master Harolds. There is no need for you and your men to scout ahead, and you can lower your weapons. It will be far more courteous to Lord Elrond and his people if we all met him together, unarmed."

Harolds, yet again, was hesitant. He did not go ahead, but he would not lower his gun right away. Jack would have liked it if Strider had demanded he put away his weapon, but the Ranger obviously recognized and respected his place of authority.

"You'll forgive me Strider if I am a little more cautious than you. We are in a strange place, with people we do not know and dangers we have no experience with. Human nature and all that."

"I understand Master Harolds, but I will assure you that no Wraiths would come within ten leagues of this place. We have guided and protected each other this far, and I would like to think of us as friends. So as a friend, I ask that you lower your weapon before we approach the gates of Rivendell."

This was a vastly different man than the one they had met on the top of that tower. Jack wasn't sure what to make in his personality shift, but he decided to attribute it to the stress of the journey. He had been more concerned with getting them all to safety than with making first impressions. As a soldier, it was something he understood.

Jack looked at his commander, wondering what the older man would do. He was a little surprised when Harolds complied with Strider's request.

"Very well Strider," it was obvious from his tone that he did not like this, "I will have to trust you on this. Lead the way then, friend."

He made a slight gesture with his arm for the other man to take the lead, but Sam roughly nudged the Ranger out of his way and started running down the path towards the city. Strider looked vaguely surprised, but followed after the eager Hobbit swiftly.

"We will make the gates in half an hour, if we are all as fleet of foot as Master Gamgee," he was smiling again as the others fell in step behind him.

Jack and Saidie walked at the rear of the group, at the whispered instruction of the Lieutenant when he was sure the others were far enough ahead not to hear. He thought it was ridiculous, as Strider assured them all that they were on well protected ground, but they would not disobey the Lieutenant's orders. Besides, it gave them a chance to trail behind a little, away form the ever questioning Hobbit duo.

"What do you think we'll find here?" Saidie asked him quietly after they had been walking for a few minutes, "Do you think that we'll be able to get back home ... or, back to Afghanistan anyway."

"I hope so," the boy replied uncertainly, "This is a really cool place and all, but it doesn't feel right. We really don't belong in Middle Earth."

If she was not wearing so much over her face, Jack would have seen the puzzlement in her expression. She stopped and turned to him. "Middle Earth? What does that mean?"

"Strider says that what this place is called. Weird, eh?"

She nodded. "Very. I just hope we can get back before we have another encounter with those creepy cloaked guys. I mean, I shot a lot of rounds into one of them, and it got a torch in the neck, but it still ran away. We're going to run out of ammo before we can take those things out."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Jack tried to sound reassuring, but he wasn't even helping himself, "At least now that we're here we'll finally be able to find out what's going on. Come on Saidie, we're falling behind. Don't want Lieutenant asshole to yell at us for being slackers."

The two of them chuckled before they started walking again. They caught up to the main group quickly, just in time to see Strider turn his head to make sure they were all following. No one noticed that they were gone.

Jack smiled.

*********************************************

  
"We are here."

The forest path had turned into a small graveled walkway at the base of the hill, and the group had climbed another small incline until they came to a set of opened wrought iron gates. Huge trees still towered above them, with leaves falling like showers of organic rain, but they were less imposing now. It was almost as if the trees had taken a few steps outwards so the Elves could have constructed this place.

When the party approached the gate, they immediately noticed that there were three people standing at the entrance, waiting to greet them. Two were strangers. One was very familiar.

"Arwen," Jack whispered to himself; he was relieved to see her there, and broke into a grin under his mask.

She had made it with Frodo. And judging by the fact that she was smiling, it was hard for him to believe that the injured Hobbit had died.

The two others stepped forward when Strider stopped them all at the gate. One was an elderly looking man, with long gray robes, a beard that matched, and a ridiculous pointy hat. At first he seemed to look frail, but there was something about him that made Jack doubt that. The other was a regal looking male Elf, with dark hair and eyes, in a long silver and brown robe with large, oversized sleeves; there was a crown of weaving gold around his brow. He had the same presence Jack remembered Arwen having, and he carried himself with grace and power.

"Mae Govannen, Estel," he said quietly to Strider, who nodded and smiled at the Elf.

Now that they were at the gate, they could all see various other Elves standing around and observing them from distances. There was a tall blond Elf with watchful eyes standing some feet away from the three, wearing light armor and resting a hand on the sword at his hip.

"Greetings friends," the dark haired Elf spoke up and stepped forward; he had a soothing, powerful voice, "I am Elrond, Lord of Rivendell. Three nights ago I foresaw strangers arriving with this Ranger and these Hobbits. The very next morning my daughter came riding through these very gates with the sickliest Hobbit I had ever seen in my life."

"Mr. Frodo!" Sam suddenly blurted out with renewed concern, "Is he alright? Did he make it?"

"Yes Samwise Gamgee, Frodo made it. He will live, thanks to the healing skills of Lord Elrond," the old man said with a reassuring smile.

Jack instantly took a liking to this elderly fellow. He reminded him of his grandfather.

"Mister Baggins is resting in my personal guest chambers. If you would like young Hobbits, I will have Arwen take you too him."

"Oh yes Sir, I'd very much like to see him," when Sam smiled in relief, it was the first time any of the Canadians had seen his expression as anything other than worrisome.

Arwen stepped forward. She gave a brief look over to Strider, who was smiling as well, before addressing the Hobbits. "Follow me then little ones, and I will take you to your friend."

The Hobbits all waved goodbye to them as Arwen lead an impatient group towards the large central structure of the city. Elrond's gaze turned to Lieutenant Harolds.

"Normally I do not come here for everyone who enters my lands," the Elf started, "But I had foreseen such strangeness that it drove me down here to inspect you myself. Now that I see you with my eyes, I am glad I have taken the effort. Tell me, who are you? Where do you come from?"

Once again the Lieutenant stepped up to speak for his soldiers. Strider just hung in the background, as he pulled what appeared to be a pipe from his overcoat.

"My name is Connor Harolds. I am a first Lieutenant of the Canadian Special Ground Forces, and these soldiers are under my command."

He briefly explained to them about how they had ended up in a cave where there was a strange preserved tower, Weathertop as Strider had called it, and how a foul wind and a strange flash of light had dropped them into the Hobbit's confrontation with the Black Riders.

"You faced the Nazgul and still live," there was an impressed note in his voice, "And aided this Ranger and the Hobbits in getting to Rivendell."

/Nazgul? I thought they were wraiths .../ Jack was getting a little confused.

"They fight well Lord Elrond," Strider spoke up casually as he lit his pipe, "They work extremely well as a unit, and have strange weaponry that hurts the Wraiths deeply. They see in the dark with the aid of special eyewear, and seem have skill in tracking and stealth. Military Men my Lord, albeit strange ones."

Elrond gave them a considering once over with his eyes.

"Surely there is no need for these masks gentlemen, now that the danger has passed, " the old man said cheerfully, "I would like to look upon the faces of those who aided the young Frodo."

This had been the moment that Jack had been anticipating. He glanced over a Saidie, and noted that her left hand tremored slightly before she steadied it.

"Yes my friends, there is no need for such secrecy in Rivendell," Strider added lightly, "You are safe here from the dangers of the outside world. Please, I would like to look upon each of you. And I only have two names. I would like to know all of them."

The three younger soldiers looked over to their commander for confirmation, and he nodded at them. Without a split second of hesitation they stripped themselves of helmet, night vision, goggles, and facial masks. There was a slight murmuring from the surrounding Elves when they laid eyes on Saidie, who tucked some errant strands of vision impairing hair behind her ears.

"Interesting," the Ranger muttered around his pipe, "I did not realize there was a young woman among your ranks Master Harolds. I wouldn't have pushed so hard had I known."

A scowl appeared on her face. Clearly Saidie was not impressed.

"I do not need any special treatment Strider, I can handle anything as well as the boys can. "

"A female?" Elrond did not bother to try and hide his surprise, "I did not expect this. Forgive me my Lady, for addressing you as a Man. Please, what is your name?"

"Saidie Trevat," she replied, trying hard to hide her irritation, "There is no need to apologize. I'm a soldier, not a Lady. Really, it doesn't bother me."

"I have never seen a woman fight along side Men as you do, and with such strange devices. You are a brave one indeed."

"Not really. I just do what I have to Strider. That's what being in the Army is about you know."

"Private Trevat is an excellent soldier," Jack turned to look at Harolds with a questioning eye; never had he heard that man speak highly of any female troop, "And as you have seen Strider, she fights as well as these men."

Even Shigure looked mildly shocked at the statement, though he hid it better than Jack. Elrond turned to him next.

"And you, young man. What is your name?"

"Jack. Jack Mitchell," he said with a wry grin, attempting to turn the attention away from his reddening friend, "You know, I don't mean to be rude Lord Elrond, but you look kind of familiar," he thought about it for a few moments before vague recognition sparked his thoughts, "Have you ever seen The Matrix? You kind of look like the guy who played Agent Smith..."

Elrond looked overly confused. "Matrix? I'm afraid I do not know what you are talking about. Perhaps I simply bear a resemblance to someone you have met."

"Mitchell," the Lieutenant was trying his best not to snap in front of all these people, but the anger was clear in his voice and expression, "I do not think that was an appropriate question for Lord Elrond."

"It is fine Master Harolds, the boy simply knows how to lighten a mood. I have taken no offense."

The Elven Lord smiled and moved onto the final member of the Canadian team. He studied Shigure's face for a moment.

"Forgive me young one, but you have a strange face. If I am not being rude, may I ask what lands do you hail from? Clearly you are not kin to your companions."

If the Japanese what at all embarrassed or irritated by Elrond's questions, he did not show it. He simply gave an unreadable smile and shook his head. "You aren't being rude at all my Lord. I am originally from the country of Japan, an island to the East. My family moved to Canada a year or so after I was born. My name is Shigure."

"Forgive me, for I have not yet introduced myself," the old man spoke up suddenly, coming a little closer to the Canadian soldiers, "I am Gandalf the Grey, a friend to Frodo Baggins. I am afraid I was supposed to meet him earlier, but I was unexpectedly delayed. Strider, being the good Man that he is, met the Hobbits instead. I thank you dearly for assisting them on their journey here." 

Harolds nodded to Gandalf, "We seemed to have had no choice in the matter, but it was our pleasure. It is our job to help those who cannot help themselves."

/And to lead people on rampant suicide missions for your own personal glory,/ Jack dared not voice the thought, but it simmered in the back of his mind while he kept up his smile, /You only agreed to this because we had nowhere else to go./

"Well, it is a pleasure to meet all of you, and I welcome you into my House. But I will confess that this meeting has left me with many questions, and I assume that you have just as many of your own."

Gandalf nodded in agreement. "Yes, we do have much to discuss, but I would think it wise to retire to more private chambers."

"Indeed my friend," Elrond was still smiling as he addressed his guests, "Master Harolds, if you would accompany Gandalf and myself we will sit down and discuss things further. But your soldiers are looking travel weary, and I would wager they would enjoy a good meal and a hot bath."

Saidie's face lit up like a Christmas tree at the mention of a bath. Jack couldn't help but chuckle.

The Lieutenant took a considering look towards the remainder of his unit. "Yes, I think that would be best. We have been on our feet for nearly a week straight now, and I am sure that my men would benefit from some much needed rest. Very well then," he turned to them, "Privates, at ease. You are dismissed until further notice."

As soon as the words left the man's mouth, Jack let out a huge sigh of relief and dropped to the ground like a ton of bricks. He sprawled out on the plush, carpet-like grass beneath him and made a noise of content.

"That doesn't mean you can act like a vagrant Mitchell," Harolds said dryly, narrowing his gaze.

"On your feet Master Jack," Strider was suddenly looming over him as he reached down and hauled the boy to his feet by the arm, "I'm sure Lord Elrond has some nicer accommodations for you than the ground."

"Indeed I do," Elrond gestured to that blond who was skulking about behind him, "Glorfindel, show these three to some rooms, and see that they get something to eat and hot water for baths."

"Yes My Lord," he gave the briefest of bows before turning his focus to the ragged looking soldiers, "Come my friends, I will take you to some rooms."

Glorfindel lead them across the stretch of courtyard towards the massive structure they had seen Arwen and the Hobbits disappear into earlier. Jack grumbled when he caught sight of all the stairs he'd have to climb, but he was quiet when Shigure gave him a dark look and told him to stop complaining. The important thing was that they were going to get good food. And baths. Maybe Saidie was onto something about all that.

After all that non-stop running through deserts and forests, he was pretty sure he reeked of extreme B.O. One application of deodorant, as a general rule, did not last for a week.

He looked back and saw the Lieutenant, Elrond, and Gandalf going in the opposite direction, but towards an even larger flight of stairs. Strider was nowhere to be seen. It made him smile slightly.

Not only would he have some time away from his commanding officer, but he got to relax and eat and bathe while Connor Harolds was stuck with the job of trying to explain themselves to the Elf and the old man.

"What are you smiling at?" the Japanese asked when the grin began to grow uncontrollably.

He turned it on Shigure. "Nothing Miyashi my man, just enjoying all this nice Elven scenery. Very cool, eh?"

"Whatever."

The grin turned into a little pout. "You're too indifferent Shigure. Can't you be even a little excited? When will we ever get to see shit like this again? Never. No one at home is ever going to believe this!"

"If we ever get home," he said, giving the boy a withering look, "You can enjoy the scenery all you want Mitchell, but we'll probably be looking at it for a very long time."

"Well don't you just know how to kill a mood," Jack mumbled as Shigure looked away and quickened his pace so he was directly behind Glorfindel.

Oh well. Screw Shigure and his pissyness. He resolved that he wasn't going to let that guy's pessimism ruin his Middle Earth experience. If they were going to be stuck in some technologically deficient fantasy world, then he was going to enjoy himself damnit! Who knew how long they would get to spend with the Hobbits and the Elves?

Jack's smile returned as they reached the top of the stairs and entered a long corridor. Things were going to be just fine. A good meal, a nice bath, and a bed. A real bed. He hadn't slept in a bed since he had left for the middle east.

Yes, he had a feeling that things would be just fine indeed. 

  
TBC in Chapter 04 - The One Ring

  
Notes : Squee, another chapter done and lots to come. Frodo eventually wakes up, Elrond, Gandalf and the Lieutenant have a little pow wow session, and the Privates learn about the Ring. Let's not forget the Council. That's on the Horizon as well. And there will be a few more familiar faces in attendance then there were in the movie. Yay artistic license.

Comments and constructive criticism can be sent to freefall_sunsoar@hotmail.com. I like getting responses. Please let me know what you think!


	4. The One Ring

Requiem for a Dream  
Written by Freefall Sunsoar 

E-mail : freefall_sunsoar@hotmail.com  
Archive : Anywhere! Just let me know, okay?

Series : Lord of the Rings (movieverse)  
Rating : R  
Pairings : Various  
Warnings : Slash, sexual situations, violence, strong language

Disclaimers : I do not own LOTR in any way, nor do I claim to. It is the property of JRR Tolkien. Last time I checked, that was not my name. Please don't sue me, you wouldn't get any money anyways. I'm dirt poor.

Notes : Nothing new. See Chapter 01 for some introductory ramblings.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
CHAPTER 04 - THE ONE RING  
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

  
"Can I offer you something Master Harolds? Wine? Something to eat?"

Connor Harolds sat himself in a comfortable chair opposite of the Elven Lord's seat, and next to the old man Gandalf. A round table of fine white stone, ornately carved with the hands of a skilled craftsman, separated them all. There were several rolled up parchments littering its surface, but it still seemed tidy.

"Yes, I believe I will take you up on that offer," he managed his best diplomatic smile to the Elf, "Wine will be fine, and if you have something simple around. I don't want to trouble you."

"It is no trouble Master Harolds."

Elrond retrieved a large crystal jug filled with a dark liquid and three large goblets. Setting the glasses in front of his guests and the jug in the centre of the table, he then went to the door of his chambers, where Glorfindel was keeping watch outside for any uninviteds. He whispered something briefly to him, and then returned his attention to the other two men.

"I have sent him to the kitchens to have us brought some fruit and cheeses," he sat himself in his chair, "Now then gentlemen, shall we get down to business?"

Gandalf reached for the pitcher of wine and poured himself a generous amount before addressing the Canadian. "Master Harolds, earlier you told us that you and your men ... and, uh, lady ... were tracking some Terrorists, was it? Yes, Terrorists across a desert and into a cave where you stumbled across the petrified remains of Weathertop. Could you perhaps elaborate on this? I know I speak for Elrond and myself when I say that I do not quite understand what a Terrorist is."

Connor took the pitcher himself and poured half a glass of the suspicious liquid. It was unlikely to be poison, considering that Gandalf was drinking it quite liberally, but he could never be too careful. The cautious always lived another day.

He refused to let himself completely trust these people or this country. It would have been a jeopardy to himself and to his command, or what survived of it anyways. He looked between Gandalf and Elrond, masking his distrust with a pleasant smile ; no need to let a potential enemy know that they did not have his friendship.

"A Terrorist is a person who commits acts of violence upon an innocent populace. In the United States, a country that neighbors my own, Terrorists from the Al Quieda network in Afghanistan hijacked aircrafts and crashed them into the two World Trade Centre buildings. Many were killed, many more injured, and families were devastated. There were Canadians among the casualties, as well as people from other nations around the world. It was an act of senseless destruction, lashing out at democracy in the western world."

The Elf and the old man bore mirror expressions of confusion.

"A terrible thing," Elrond said with a frown, "To have such hatred of others. But I am afraid that you still muddle us my friend. These lands you speak of : Canada, United States, Afghanistan ... they have no meaning for us. You come from a place that sounds alien Master Harolds."

How could he make them understand what he was saying?

An idea sudden came to him. Connor stood and reached for his pack. Buried at the bottom, past all of the ammo, spare weaponry, and underneath a change of civilian clothing, was a collection of rolled papers. He selected one carefully, and then unraveled it on the table.

"This is a map of the world as we know it," he explained to them, turning it so they could read it better, "Here," he began pointing out specific nations, "Is my country, Canada. This is the United States of America. And here," he moved his finger in a grand arc halfway across the world, "Is Afghanistan."

"This is a foreign landscape indeed," Gandalf said with muted amazement, "Such a vast expanse of land ... so many nations. I am afraid Middle Earth has no comparison to these countries."

"Indeed," Elrond reached for one of his scrolls, and unfurled a smaller map which he laid on top of the other, "This my friend is a complete Map of the world as we know it."

Connor knitted his brow as he studied the paper.

"This is Middle Earth, and here is Imladris, where we are now," he tapped his finger on a point on the map to illustrate his point, "And across the seas is the land of Valinor, the Gray Havens of my people. As we speak many of my kin are sailing on ships to these shores."

"Why? Do they not like it here?"

"No, it is nothing so frivolous my friend," Elrond was smiling again, "The Seas are calling them to Valinor, and when the call comes, it is impossible to resist. The time of the Elves in Middle Earth is drawing to a close. Soon we will have disappeared from these lands."

"I don't think I completely understand what you're saying, but I suppose it is not for me to comprehend the ways of your … people," he was reluctant to use the 'E' word until he was sure what was going on, "So, where does this leave us?"

Gandalf took another sip from his goblet before speaking. "I believe, Master Harolds, from the evidence we see here that you and your soldiers have come to us from some other world. A place that exists in a separate reality from our own."

The Lieutenant gave him a level stare. Surely a grown man could not believe in such things?

"Another World? Come now Gandalf, there must be a more sensible explanation. It is more than likely that I've simply hit my head and this is all just a dream," he chuckled mildly, "Other Worlds … those are subjects of books and movies. Fiction. Next you'll be suggesting that it was magic that brought us here, or some nonsense like that."

An amused expression crossed the old man's face. "You do not believe in magic, Master Harolds?"

"Magic is not real," the Canadian said, a hint of irritation in his voice, "Children's stories and faerie tales. For that matter, there are no such things as Elves and Hobbits either. People do not carry swords, they carry guns. None of this can be real. The more I think about it, the more that it seems I am probably dead or in a coma."

Gandalf and Elrond exchanged looks, which made Connor slightly wary.

"My dear Master Harolds," Gandalf began, "I do not doubt that where you come from such things as magics and sword play have long since been forgotten, but that doesn't mean they can't or don't exist somewhere else. The more I think about it, the more I believe you and your soldiers have inadvertently stumbled across some portal that connects our two existences. Perhaps there is more to Weathertop than I previously thought."

"Nonsense," Harolds spat, "Complete nonsense. If these were two separate worlds then why would the same tower appear in both of them?"

There was a thoughtful silence as the other two contemplated this.

"Tell us then, more about this foul wind and the flash of light," Elrond responded, folding his hands together on the table top, "Perhaps that will give us a new insight."

He sighed in frustration as he thought back to the cave. A frown marred his face when the fight with Private Mitchell came rushing back to him. In all the years he had been in the army he had never run across someone who disobeyed orders as much as Jack. Connor was torn between hating him for being such an insubordinate brat or merely disliking him for constantly voicing his opinions; more than not, he leaned towards hating him. They had never gotten along, and he feared this whole fiasco would only heighten the tension between them.

Unless of course he was dreaming, which was more than likely.

But that wasn't important at the moment. He thought about the old tower; how it looked in the darkness of the cave; the feeling of that sickly hot breeze in his face; the feeling of dread when he looked through those binoculars to see a violent twister of darkness expanding from the highest point.

"It was very strange," he recalled absently, "I was arguing with Private Mitchell, when suddenly Private Miyashi was very insistent that we leave immediately. I noticed that it had gotten very warm, as if we were back in the desert sun at noon, and I got this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. When I looked to the top of the tower, I saw this mass of dark clouds."

"Dark clouds?"

"Yes. They were expanding outwards from the peak, and working their way down very quickly. I ordered everyone to run to the entrance, but before I could finish my sentence there was this flash of light. It was so bright I thought I would be blinded, but instead …"

He trailed off for a moment, his mind working to process the memory. Elrond and Gandalf waited patiently for him to continue.

"Instead, it was like I had been swept off of my feet, and I was falling."

"You say you were falling?" Gandalf questioned as if it were an interrogation, "What did you see when you were falling? What were you falling through?"

"Nothing," he replied in a neutral tone, "I wasn't falling through anything. It was like a void. I couldn't see or hear my troops, so I assumed I was alone."

"You saw nothing then?" Elrond sounded disappointed, "Well, that gives us very little to go -"

"No, wait," Connor interrupted as he suddenly remembered something else, "I did see something. I felt like I was falling for a very long time. Hours, maybe even days. But when I finally thought I would go mad from it all there was another light, and I saw … I saw a eye."

Now this seemed to really grab the questioner's attentions. Some colour left Elrond's face, and Gandalf looked as though he had received the news that some relative had been horribly killed.

"An eye?" Elrond asked with concern, "Are you certain?"

Connor did not see how this was particularly shocking news, so nodded and answered the question guardedly, "Yes, it was definitely an eye. It was lidless and made of fire, had almost a kind of reptilian look to it. I think there may have been a voice as well, but there were no discernable words, only a kind of guttural sound. When I fell towards it there was a second bright light, and then I found myself outside in the night air, falling towards the top of the tower..."

"Where the Wraiths had cornered the Hobbits," Gandalf completed the thought, "And where Frodo had the Ring."

The Ring? Connor squinted curiously at the old man, asking an unspoken question. The mention of the eye had vexed them, so clearly they had to know more than they were telling him about their strange arrival to these lands. He was tired of answering all of their questions and getting runaround in return; it was time they answered a few of his.

"I think it is about time that you explained a few things to me," he was just short of demanding, "When I mentioned seeing this eye you both looked like you going to have a heart attack. Tell me, what is this eye to you? What does it have to do with a ring?"

A very grave expression suddenly overtook Gandalf, and Connor had to work a little harder to maintain his bravado. "What you have seen Master Harolds is something that no one has seen in an Age. Something of unspeakable evil and malice. It was the Eye of Sauron."

"The Eye of Sauron?"

For nearly twenty minutes he listened to Gandalf and Elrond tell him a story about a Dark Lord who forged several Rings of Power and handed them out to leaders of various races. In secret he had forged another ring, the One Ring, that would control all the others.

"He covered all these lands in shadow and hatred," the old man explained, "Until an alliance of Men and Elves marched against him. There was a great battle, and many died against Sauron's hordes."

"What happened? Was this Sauron defeated?"

Elrond's expression turned sour. "We fought against him endlessly, until the Dark Lord himself appeared on the battle field and began to devastate our armies. It was when Isi-"

"Wait a minute Elrond," Harolds interrupted skeptically, "You speak as though you were there. If you are going to make up stories for my amusement, then you should at least -"

"I was there my friend, 3000 years ago. I do not make things up to entertain others."

"You couldn't have been there if this battle was fought so many years ago. It is impossible, unless you've constructed some sort of time machine."

"There is much you need to learn Master Harolds," Gandalf replied in a friendly tone, despite the look of mild frustration on his face, "The Elves are immortal creatures, gifted with everlasting life and beauty. There are some living as ancient as this world itself."

"Impossible," the Lieutenant scoffed, "Now you are telling me that you cannot be killed?"

"No, that is not what I am saying. An Elf can be killed as easily as a Man if he is not careful. But old age is not a factor in the lives of Elves; there is no such thing as a natural death for their kind."

Connor was suddenly on his feet, pushing away from his chair and the table until he was a good distance away from the other two. He was not going to listen to this bullshit anymore, it could not be true. 

"You honestly expect me to believe all of this? Evil Dark Lords and immortality ..."

"I know this must be difficulty for you, but you must learn to accept these things Master Harolds if we are to help you find a way back to your world. Come, sit back down and we can -"

"I will not," he was nearly shouting now, "I can't sit at this table while you give me these stories! I want some real answers for a change, no more dancing around the bush. Tell me what I need to know to get home."

This time he would not let them feed him any more theories or history lessons. He looked sternly back and forth between Elrond and Gandalf, waiting for one of them to start talking again.

"Tell me about the Eye of Sauron," he demanded, "What does it have to do with me and my men ending up here?"

"Frodo carries with him something of grave importance," Gandalf was finished with the pleasantries, and he stood as well; Connor did not remember him being so tall and intimidating, "For the past sixty years it has been sleeping quietly in the Shire, waiting to hear the call of its master's voice. It is the One Ring of Power."

"Forged by Sauron himself in the fires of Mount Doom, it is an object of pure evil that wants nothing more than to return to the hand it was taken from," Elrond was the last to stand, and the earlier friendliness was gone from him as well, "3000 years ago Isildur, son of the King, took up the sword Narsil and cleaved the fingers from the Dark Lord's hand. Sauron's body was destroyed, but his spirit endured because of the Ring.

"I lead him into Mount Doom to cast the Ring back into the flames, to destroy this great evil once and forever. But the power of the Ring had already corrupted his heart, and Isildur kept it," a look of painful recollection passed over the Elven Lord's face for a moment, "The weakness of Men allowed the Ring to survive. Now it has been found again, and the Dark Lord has been revived. His armies begin to mass in the East, and he has already taken some control over Middle Earth."

Elrond glanced quickly at Gandalf, but the meaning behind the look was lost to Harolds.

"So what are you saying then? That this Ring is responsible for bringing us here?"

"Perhaps," Gandalf took a step towards him, "Frodo was wearing the Ring at the time you dropped in on them, so to speak. And you saw the Eye, which means He is at least aware of your presence here. This sickly feeling you described, it is not unlike the feeling one gets when they come into contact with the Ring of Power."

"Well if this Ring is responsible, then surely it can send us back," it seemed a logical conclusion to the soldier, "Bring it to me, and maybe I can -"

"No," Gandalf exclaimed immediately, "You must understand something about this Ring. It is made purely of hatred, of evil. You cannot use it, even for good intention. It corrupts all, no matter how pure of heart you are. No one can wield it save for the one who created it."

"And once you have heard it's call Master Harolds, it will haunt you until the end of your days. Isildur was killed by his love for the Ring, and so would you be too. I will not risk you using that Ring, even if there is no other way."

"And who are you to make such a decision? I will not stay in this dreadful place if there is a way for us to -"

"I am the Lord of this land Connor Harolds," the Elf was furious, "And you would do well to remember your place as a guest in my House. I make the decision because it is mine to make. The Ring is off limits."

"Then why tell me about it when you had no intention of ever letting me use it? Why are you playing these games with me?"

"We are not playing games Master Harolds," Gandalf replied, "We are trying to make you understand how dire these days are for us. A war is coming to this world, one that could end in everlasting darkness and death, even if you chose to believe in it or not. There will be decisions that you must make shortly. Choices that need choosing. It does not hurt to be prepared."

The Lieutenant gritted his teeth, using all of his will to restrain his anger. How dare they treat him this way? How dare they deny him a means of returning to reality when it was plain in front of their noses. He was hesitant to believe all these stories they were telling him, but this Ring they spoke of was intriguing. Perhaps Sauron's Ring was the key he needed to get him and the others back safely.

Just imagine what they would say about him at home, leading his surviving command bravely back from this savage, primitive world. He would be a hero.

He took a deep, calming breath. It would do him no good to enrage his 'hosts' and get thrown out into the forests. If he wanted to learn more about this Ring, specifically how he could get his hands on it, then he would have to earn their trust. And if earning said trust meant he was to believe all their faerie tale nonsense, then he would do so for the moment.

It was likely that he would need help in getting to the Ring, but he was not sure he could trust his soldiers to agree with his plan. Jack would be opposed, simply because it was his idea, and Trevat was a thorny one. They had had a few disagreements in the past. Perhaps Miyashi could be persuaded though. He seemed like a reasonable person.

All he needed was a plan.

/Smile Connor/ he forced himself to grin, /If there is really a way to get home, you can't lose it to your temper. Patience is a virtue./

"I ... would like to apologize, to both of you," he began in his sincerest voice, "People have told me that my anger often gets the better of me, and I guess it's done that tonight. You have to realize though, you are asking me to believe a lot, and some of this is very hard to accept."

That friendly, paternal smile returned to the old man's face, "There is no harm done, Master Harolds. I understand that your world must be a very different pace than our own, and what is simple everyday for us is merely fantasy for you. It is difficult to accept things one does not understand."

"Yes, er, it's just a lot of information for me to try and digest at once. I mean, immortal Elves and evil magical Rings? It would probably be like me trying to explain the concept of a computer to you," he could hear the question coming out of Gandalf's mouth before it was spoken, "Which I will explain to you another day my friend, when it is more appropriate," he turned to the Elf, "I hope I have not offended you Lord Elrond."

He seemed slower to accept the sudden change of demeanor, but Elrond took the apology nevertheless. "No offense Master Harolds, but perhaps a little irritation that I'm sure will be gone by morning. You do not understand our world, and I can accept that, but you must try to open yourself to new possibilities. I cannot make you believe in anything, but I can ask that you make an effort not to dismiss everything because it sounds inconceivable."

"I am a Military Man my Lord," he was definitely not agreeable to giving pointy eared men honourifics, but it was all necessary to make them trust him, "I have had rules and regulations and order drilled into me for years. I drill it into my troops as often as I can. It is hard for me to drop my entire way of thinking because two men tell me that a great evil may be responsible for whisking me off to a foreign land. But, I will give some thought to everything you have told me."

"That is good. I am glad you are at least willing to see things from our perspective."

"You spoke of choices Gandalf, and preparation," Harolds changed the subject ever so slightly, "Do I dare ask what you are referring to?"

"As I have said Master Harolds, a second darkness will soon come upon these lands. Sauron knows the Ring has come to Rivendell, and he will try to take it back, by any means necessary. You are a stranger to these lands, and as a stranger I cannot burden you with our troubles. But you have aided us in the past, and I fear we may be in need of your aid in the future."

"The Ring cannot stay here," Elrond stated flatly, "The power of the Elves cannot conceal this evil from the Eye. To decide the Fate of the Ring I have summoned a Council. Within days representatives of all the free races of Middle Earth will arrive, and we will discuss how best to deal with this situation. I ask you now Lieutenant Harolds, for you and your soldiers to join us at the Council."

Was this some sort of trick? Did Elrond not earlier say that he would not grant him access to the One Ring? What their motivations were, he could not say, but he agreed to it. It would certainly give him a closer look at this stupid piece of jewelry anyways.

"Very well my Lord, we will attend your Council. But it is getting late now, and I think I'd like some time alone to think about all of this."

"Of course lad," Gandalf replied amiably, "I've nearly forgotten you've been traveling just as long as your soldiers. Now would seem a good time to end this meeting."

"Indeed," Elrond agreed readily, "It has been a long day, and nothing more can be accomplished this night. If you are ready to retire for the evening, Glorfindel will show you to a room near your troops. Perhaps we can have some further discussion on these matters when you have had time to properly consider everything. Until then I will try and find a way for you and your men to return to your country."

"Thank you Lord Elrond, I'm very grateful for your hospitality," he smiled as he nodded to the two of them, "So if you will excuse me gentlemen, I believe I am going to have a hot bath and some sleep. I will see you in the morning. Goodnight."

He turned sharply on his heel and retreated from the room without looking back at them once. The game was on, and he would have to play by their rules for now, at least until he got some proper information. If there was even a remote chance that this Ring would be able to get him home, he would have to find out everything he could about it.

Perhaps he would ask Elrond if he had a library, or whatever passed for such in this place, where he could learn more about 'Middle Earth', Sauron, and the One Ring. It couldn't hurt to be informed.

"Glorfindel?" he posed the question to that skulky fellow he had seen earlier, who was now standing just outside of Elrond's personal chambers.

"Yes Master Harolds," he answered pleasantly enough, though he did not smile, "A room has been prepared for you, if you will follow me."

"Lead the way then," he gestured for the Elf to go, and Glorfindel took up a swift pace.

They walked together for some minutes in companionable silence. Thoughts of the conversation shifted and organized themselves in his long term memory as he followed the blond closely. He wanted to remember everything, even if it all sounded like a load of horse manure. It could be important later on, especially what was said about the Ring Frodo was carrying.

/Hmm, Frodo … no, it would be stupid try and get it from him. They'll all think I've gone mad or something. Besides, they probably took it from the Hobbit anyways. I wonder where they've stashed it? I would sure like a chance to study it …/

"This is it Master Harolds," Glorfindel said suddenly as he stopped at a large wooden door, "Some serving girls will be around to take your dirty clothes to be laundered, and someone will be here shortly with hot water if you desire a bath. "

"Thank you Glorfindel, that will be all" he said curtly, and the Elf nodded at him before disappearing down the hallway once more.

The peeved expression on his face made Harolds think that perhaps he shouldn't have treated him so much like a bell boy; judging by the Elf's attire, he probably was not accustomed to showing people to their rooms.

He closed the door behind him, and began methodically stripping of layers of dust stiffened clothing. A bath sounded very nice, and he thought it would be an excellent distraction from his current problems. Yes, he would have a nice bath, get his uniform cleaned, and go to sleep. From what Elrond had said, he probably had maybe four or five days until this council was to take place.

Plenty of time to learn what he could and think of a strategy.

*********************************************

  
There were three quick raps at the door.

"Come in Glorfindel."

Elrond looked up from the map to see him open the door, enter the room and close it behind him in one fluid motion; he did not look happy. Elrond raised an eyebrow questioningly at him.

"That Man oversteps himself," the blond said as he approached his Lord, "He speaks back to you and Gandalf as if it is his right, and he has the nerve to address me as some sort of servant."

Gandalf looked slightly amused, but said nothing, preferring to take a liberal sip from the wine goblet in his left hand.

"Yes, he has a temper and a tongue, but under the circumstances I will let his gross disrespect pass. And if he sees you as a servant, I am afraid that is probably my doing."

"You have me showing them about as if this is an inn," Glorfindel said distastefully, "I am not a baggage boy my Lord."

"Forgive me my friend, but I wanted to keep close watch on these strangers, and I trust no one else as I trust you. If it displeases you so much, I will have someone else to aid them. Perhaps Arwen would enjoy such a task."

"Arwen should be kept on a tighter leash," his expression soured considerably, "Have you yet reprimanded her for taking off with Asfaloth to seek Estel and his company? Foolishness, and certainly no job for a woman. The Evenstar at that. She could have been killed by The Nine."

"She is a stubborn one," a voice came from the shadows behind them, "And brave. Too much for her own good I'd wager."

The two Elves glanced in the direction of the voice to see Aragorn stepping into the light of the candles. Glorfindel looked rather surprised to see him; the Ranger exhaled a slow mouthful of smoke from the lit pipe in his hands, grinning ineffectually.

"How long have you been here Aragorn?"

"Elrond had requested I listen in on his meeting with Master Harolds," he commented casually as he sat next to Gandalf, "I have been here all along. Surely I had thought that a First Born would have known a mere Man was hiding about in the shadows."

"That is enough banter gentlemen," Elrond interrupted the two of them, "We must talk about this situation seriously. What are your thoughts on these strangers Estel? You have spent the last few days traveling with them. Do you believe that this Connor Harolds can be trusted?"

"They are strange indeed, and I do not know what to make of them just yet," Aragorn sucked on his pipe thoughtfully. "I believe that the lesser soldiers can be trusted My Lord, and I believe them to be genuine. The problem is that they are very much under the influence of Harolds, who, as you have seen, cannot bring himself to fully accept the situation they have found themselves in. They follow his orders without question, and are wary of reprimand."

"Yes, he is a worrisome man," Gandalf added, "Blind to things he does not wish to see. And too rash for his own good."

"He is an effective leader though. As I said earlier, they are a fearsome unit, skilled and brave. They defended the Hobbits attacked the Nine without hesitation, and then continued to do so on the journey here. I do not doubt Harolds' intentions; he is not an enemy to us, nor would he see our enemies here."

Elrond nodded. "It is not his intent that I fear Estel. He simply wishes to see himself and his companions back to their world. But it is the lengths he might go to accomplish this that worry me."

There was a silence.

"The Ring?" Glorfindel asked the question that need not be asked.

"Indeed my friend. It was necessary for us to tell him of Sauron and the One Ring, and it was only natural for him to want use it to try and return to his homeland. But I cannot allow it. The Ring would easily corrupt him, and I would not condemn a Man to such a Fate. Not even one so brash as he."

Gandalf agreed. "There is no question on the matter Elrond. No one can wield that evil thing for any purpose, it is unthinkable. The severity of the situation with the Ring will come to these people quickly, and I am sure that they will realize it would be futile to try and use it."

"So then, where does that leave us on the situation?"

"I have invited Master Harolds and his company to sit in during our council," The Elven Lord began, "And he readily agreed. The Ring must be taken to Mount Doom, and if I have foreseen things clearly, he will wish to accompany the Ringbearer on his quest."

"And you would allow this?" Aragorn queried, "When it is clear he may still want to use the Ring to aid himself?"

"It will be none of our decisions, save for the Ringbearer," Gandalf said with a note of sadness, "Frodo will ultimately have the final say. But I do believe the boy will welcome them, especially when he learns of how they saved his life and aided his friends."

Glorfindel seemed a little confused. "The Hobbit will take the Ring to Mordor? You have seen this then my Lord?"

Elrond shook his head, "I have not seen it clearly, but Gandalf is sure the Hobbit will be the Bearer. He has already taken it this far, and out of obligation it seems he will be willing to go further."

"Frodo is too responsible for his own good," the old wizard said, "He will undertake the burden, I am certain of it. Though I wish he would not."

"These Hobbits are stout of heart Gandalf, and continue to surprise me. But I will keep my eyes on him, and on this Harolds if he does indeed join this quest," Aragorn interjected, "There will be enough dangers on the road without dangers from within our own company."

"It will be dangerous," Elrond agreed, "Filled with peril. But it will ultimately be necessary. Come now, we must discuss the details of the quest and the council. Hand me those papers there Gandalf."

Late into the night the small group poured over fine details, ironing out their plans for the coming days. Despite the arrival of these fascinating strangers, they had much graver issues, and could not waste what little time they had debating about them. That would have to wait for another day.

Still, each of them could not quash the little niggling doubts about these Canadians that harbored in the back of their minds. They seemed friendly enough, and willing to help them, but it was hard to completely trust them.

These were indeed strange times for Middle Earth.

  
TBC in Chapter 05 - Coffee and Cigarettes

  
Notes : Distrustfulness amongst everyone. I hadn't really intended for this chapter to be solely on Elrond, Gandalf, and Connor's meeting, but as I was writing it just kept coming and coming until I realized I'd written nearly 11 pages. Oh well. Next chapter the Canadians get a nice breakfast, learn about Gandalf's true nature, and Frodo wakes up. Oh, and a certain Mirkwood cutie may show up in Rivendell soon.

Comments and constructive criticism can be sent to freefall_sunsoar@hotmail.com. I like getting responses. Please let me know what you think!


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